Silver Trumpets
by Awesomenerdyfangirl
Summary: "I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness, nor the arrow for its swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory. I love only that which they defend." In his dying moments, what was Boromir thinking about? This is my take on the death of the mighty warrior. Please read and review!


**Hey everyone! I hope you enjoy this one shot. It was pretty emotional for me to write. **

**For music, I would suggest listening to The Death of Boromir, (with lyric) on Youtube for the main part of this, and then for the last scene, listen to "The Return of the King." **

**Enjoy! And please review. Your reviews encourage me to keep writing. :)**

I could feel the life-blood draining from my body into the damp leaves.

Every breath rattled like chains in my chest, and sent pain darting up my spine.

_I had failed. _

_I was a disgrace. _

I struggled to rise, but the arrows in my chest made me heavy with panic.

My vision was blurring.

I couldn't move.

_I had failed. _

The hobbits.

Merry and Pippin.

And Frodo.

No.

Those innocent hobbits, who were so much braver then I,

They were in the hands of those beasts, filthy brutish...

_And it was my fault. I wasn't strong enough. I wasn't fast enough. _

_I was weak. _

I heard urgent footsteps and Strider knelt by my side, assessing the damage.

Maybe he could save them.

"The little ones! They took the little ones!"

He told me to lay still. He didn't understand. _It was my fault. _

"Frodo. Where is Frodo." I needed to apologize. _It was my fault._ _I drove him away. _

Strider had a drawn pained look on his face.

"I let Frodo go." But that's not why Frodo left. _It was my fault._

I had to tell him. I could not bear this disgrace. _This weakness. _

"Then you did what I could not... I tried to take the ring from him." The admission twisted in my gut worse than any poisoned arrow. _I had shattered the Fellowship. _

"The Ring is beyond our reach now." His voice was quiet, sad. Not angry. _Why wasn't he angry? It was my fault. _

"Forgive me." _Please. _"I did not see." _I was such a fool. A fool..._

"I have failed you all." I loathed myself. _All this was my fault_.

"No Boromir. You fought bravely. You have kept your honor." _What was he saying? I was a disgrace. I was a traitor. I deserved to die..._

I moved my hand to the shaft in my heart. Maybe if I ripped it out my shame would be ripped out too, and I could die in peace.

"Leave it!" _Why was he trying to keep me alive? I had insulted him and rejected him. _

"It is over. The world of men will fall... And all will come to darkness...and my city to ruin." My voice shook in my throat. It was getting harder to breathe.

_My city. My father. My brother. My people. _

_I needed to see them. My home. My beautiful city! Who will protect them now? They needed me! _

I struggled to rise from the earth, despite the deadness that had settled in my limbs. I had to go!

But Strider stopped me with a stern look, his eyes flashing.

"I do not know what strength is in my blood. But I swear to you I will not let the White City fall." His tone was deadly earnest, and I saw tears on his dirt-grimed face.

"Nor our people fail." _our people. His and mine. _

"Our people." _Not just mine. _

"_Our_ people." _He loved Gondor too. _Suddenly my fear and shame ebbed away. Maybe, just maybe, not all was lost. Aragorn had forgiven me, and he had promised.

Perhaps my death would not be for nothing.

There was still hope.

I stretched out my hand: it was shaking, but somehow he knew what I wanted.

He pressed my bloodied sword in my hand, and brought it to my heart.

I didn't have to worry. _Our people were in good hands. _

I could rest now. _He promised. _

I could feel the cold sleepiness creeping over my heart. But he needed to know...

"I would have followed you my brother, my captain."

My eyesight was fading. I struggled to focus on Aragorn's face in the white haze.

"My King."

I couldn't see any more. I couldn't move, I couldn't breathe.

There was wetness on my face. A whisper.

"Be at peace. Son of Gondor."

_A field. _

_The grass was golden, and the sky was blue. _

_Vast and open. _

_Peaceful, but empty. _

_Was this it? _

_A breeze caressed my face, moving me to turn my head. _

_And I saw it. _

_Even more beautiful then I remembered. _

_Glimmering like pearls and silver. _

_The banners on the walls lifted. _

_Silver trumpets sounded._

_The gates opened for me. _

_I heard a high, clear cry. _

"_The Son of Gondor has returned!" _

_I took a deep breath, and laughter and relief rose inside me. _

_I was home. _

"I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness, nor the arrow for its swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory. I love only that which they defend."

-Faramir, brother of Boromir.


End file.
